My Nightmare
by megamonster D
Summary: After Sam's death, Braelyn has to accept the fact that Sam would want her to be happy. But how can she be happy when there have been sightings of Jared? Will she be safe? Will there be a way to get him to leave Braelyn alone? Who knows?
1. We Are Not

**My Nightmare**

**Prologue**

Jared looks at me and I feel safe, and suddenly I don't care. I throw it all away. I'm kissing him before I know it, suddenly and desperately, throwing away the fear. I have no fear anymore.

The scream of rage is what separates us.

_**...Six Months Earlier...**_

**Chapter 1 - We Are Not**

I feel that hollow aching, and I welcome it. It is better than fear, I can't think when I'm afraid. Sam's smile is sad in her picture. Sam's smile was always sad, up to the very moment she died. In my head I picture Sam scowling at me. Oh look at that, I'm late for class. I can't summon the energy to care. I move away from Sam's glass case like someone would move away from a grave. When I finally get to class the teacher simply sighs at me. My crippling depression makes it hard for them to punish me.

"You're late again." Misty, Sam's other best friend whispers. Since Sam was murdered, Misty and I sort of stuck together. We don't fit in with the same crowd, but it fills a gap. She basically my only friend.

"What I miss?" I ask to humor her.

"Oh Kathy giving Ms. Quail a hard time. Nothing special." I glanced over at Kathy and fought to not make a disgusted sound. She had dyed her nappy hair black, and always wore a skin tight black outfit. She had lost a ton of weight since last winter, and now looked like a stripper half the time. She was almost worse than Brandon.

"Think I could sleep today?" I whispered to misty. She Shrugged.

"Looks like wer're just taking notes, so yeah." I promptly put my hood up and leaned back in my chair closing my eyes. Almost immediately the nightmares began.

"_Braelyn..." It's always the same. I can hear someone say my name, sometimes it's Sam, sometimes it's Jared. I wander through the dense forest looking for someone. It's when I realize she's dead is when I start screaming._

Thankfully Misty shakes me awake, just as the gunshot goes off, before the screaming begins. The whole class is staring. Eleven months ago, that would have bothered me. Misty blinked at me, worried. I took a deep breath, trying to stand the fear, feeling that scream building in the back of my throat.

"I'm fine." I said just as the bell rang.

Our school is like a river, we the salmon, swimming to our deaths. I didn't feel like a salmon, I felt like a leaf, flowing with the thrashing current instead of against it. I didn't hate my school, but it's blinding cheerful nature was going to make me go nuts sooner or later. I stopped at Sam's memorial shelf, located between the trophies, like her death was an achievement. It sure did get the school a lot of press and money. They sold her like they sold yearbooks, cheaply dramatized and incredibility overpriced. They made her seem like such a victim. She didn't deserve to be called a victim. She was stronger than that. Someone stood beside me. It was Misty.

"She wouldn't want us to dwell." Misty said, green eyes focused on Sam's sad smile. I barked a soft laugh.

"No, but she wouldn't mind, if we didn't cry." Misty tried for a smile, but didn't get very far. Sisters in agony were we.

"God we're depressing." I muttered, touching Sam's pendant lightly. I never took it off.

"Let's go visit Cynthia." Misty said suddenly.

"Right now?"

"Why not? They think you're nuts and unstable. Plus I can have my mom call me in." I thought about it and was about to decline, when I glimpsed Kathy, pinning Brandon up against the wall, kissing him. My stomach churned.

"Fair enough." We walked from the school without the slightest care.

After Sam's funeral, tje rest of Sophomore year had been spent in weeks of zombie like clips, antidepressants and daily trips to my school shrink. Last summer was three months of binge watching television shows and never going outside for anything except visiting Sam's mom. Because no matter how lost we all felt over Sam, her mom was the one who had lost her daughter. Now, when school was fresh and I was the biggest story, Cynthia Yeskis was my only escape.

Sam's mom was on the couch as perusal, hooked up to a heart monitor and her own person air supply. Her sad smile was bittersweet to me, but I sucked it up. With Sam gone, Cynthia had to hire a nurse to help her around the house and with medication. The nurse was fitting Cynthia with IV when we walked in.

"Shouldn't you two be in school?" She scolded.

"When have they ever been known to follow the rules?" Cynthia said with a smile. I hugged her.

"Never. We're rebels." I said. Cynthia laughed a bit. Misty sat in the arm chair by the window and I sat on the floor by Cynthia's knees.

"Are you going back to school?" Sam's mom asked. I shrugged.

"Depends on if it's worth it I guess. Not much point now. I get my homework." It wasn't a lie. My teachers sent my homework home in the mail and I get it done. Tests were done online. The on;y reason I went to school in the first place was to pay my respects to Sam's memory and get away from my fear. If I stayed home during the day, his letters, opened and screaming on my desk, would drive me nuts. The worst part was my mom. She avoided me now, but before, she wouldn't leave things alone. I was never alone, never allowed out past dark, and was always asked if I was okay. One day I finally snapped. I told her flat out what had happened between me and Jared, that I loved him. Now at least she didn't look at me in pity. Now she didn't look at me at all. It stung, but I could handle it. Just then the door opened, and in came Brandon. My rage almost enveloped my ever present fear. Almost.

Brandon glanced at me and looked frightened. I held his gaze until he looked away and went to hug Sam's mom. Spineless bastard.

"Seems everyone is slumpy today." Cynthia laughed over Brandon's shoulder. He stood up.

"Nah, it's my lunch hour, I just popped in to say hello." Misty was openly glaring. I tried not to care. To me Brandon was nothing but a bitch, a spineless, cowardly ginger bitch who knew nothing about loyalty. It had been almost a year since Sam's death, and yet he had gone after Kathy at her funeral. Speaking of Kathy, I could see her outside in her car. She was not permitted entry in the house. Brandon looked for a place to sit, his eyes lingering in me. I met those blue eyes and raised my chin, slightly challenging him. His adams apple bobbed. "But Kathy is waiting, I should probably go. Love you mom." He said with another hug. When he was gone Cynthia sighed.

"That boy is a bitch." Misty choked on a laugh and I smiled. "Honestly, he has never fought for a thing in his life." I frowned.

"No...he hasn't." I agreed. Cynthia's look was sad.

"Welp, I better go, mom's making pork chops tonight. See you tomorrow. Love you mom." Misty said, hugging us both.

**. . .**

It was dark and sprinkling. The water made me cringe.

"Do you want to spend the night tonight?" Cynthia asked when our tv show went to commercial.

"Sure." I said, knowing my mom wouldn't even notice my absence. I slept in the blood stained basement, where Sam's room was a draft that I could handle. I spent more time here than I did at home, home being poisoned with questions and blaring silence. I would rather be here, where my fear cannot touch me. I kiss Cynthia on the cheek and head into the bowels of Sam's home, knowing that while her bedroom makes me sad, it also makes me remember her with a sad smile. Here, in the threshold there is no door, but a blanket with a skeleton on it. I can touch the worn fabric all I please before pushing it aside and entering her space. A single lamp exists, bright and casting shadows. Pictures are everywhere, all of our friends, her family, her dog. Here she is with her mom, smiling widely, no sadness in it. Here is a picture taken two summers ago, when I had my first taste of alcohol, our eyes are bright with laughter.

"She was happy." I say it like a prayer. The blood spots on the concrete floor say the opposite. Her journals and unfinished stories scream from the shelves, and I resist the urge to read one. Instead I go to my favorite picture. This was a picture I took, one that I placed among the rest. It is a picture of Sam, sitting on her bed writing, brow furrowed in concentration. I love it because she is in her room, not stiff with headache or sadness, it reminds me that she once sat here, cried here, laughed and slept here. She had been real, and alive. I crawled under the covers, but did not turn out the light. Sam never looked the dark. Neither did I.


	2. We Are Divided

Chapter Two - We Are Divided

Kathy

Never in her life had she been so successful.

She had Brandon.

She had her body fit and healthy.

She had power.

Kathy was on top of it all, nothing could crush her.

"She still hates me." Brandon said. Kathy's nose wrinkled. Even mentally damaged and hateful, Brandon still pined over the wench. She wanted to snarl, but instead she stayed silent. One thing had changed about herself that she despised:

She was dependant on Brandon. Brandon had changed, both physically and mentally, as they all had. He had joined the football team, filled out more and grew an inch both in height and in the place Kathy liked most. Mentally, he had become smarter, less inclined to think with his penis. This was a bad thing for Kathy, but he had also come to the conclusion that Braelyn inadvertently killed Sam, so he wouldn't go back to her. But Kathy had been working on developing her personality, so as he wouldn't leave her, do to her shallowness. Kathy knew she shallow, but in her defense her shallowness was a survival technique. After all, no one cared if she lived or died.

**. . .**

"All I'm saying is that someone needs to find him." Kathy entered her shit hole apartment to her mom talking on the phone. "Oh Kathy. Did you hear? Jared's been sighted! I hope they catch him. Oh and your uncle is coming to visit." Kathy's car keys dropped to the ground. Near panic struck her so deep she had to concentrate on standing. "Oh don't look at me like that. Get over it, it happened years ago." Kathy swallowed the fear, swallowed her panic and went to her room.

The flash backs came without hesitation.

_"Quit Screaming." He said. "Quit bleeding." He said. "It's not like we haven't done this before. Quit fighting." The doctor said she could never have children._

_Never have children._

_Never have children._

Kathy whirled, her fist meeting the mirror above her dresser in a cry of agony. The pain felt good, she could think through the pain.

"Get over it? Get over it!? The royal fucking bitch! Have him squirt in your eye and see how it effects you!" She called Brandon because the blood on her knuckles made her want to open a vein.

"I miss you." She said.

"I'm doing homework." He said.

"My mom's a bitch." She said.

"I really can't talk." He said.

"Don't be an asshole." She said.

"Goodbye Kathy, I'll see you tomorrow. I love you." He said.

She simply hung up. And screamed. And cried. And bled.

She bled a lot.

It was the only thing her and Sam ever seemed to have in common. Blood flow and internal struggles.

**. . .**

"Did you hear?" Brandon said, getting in the car.

"That you're an asshole?"

"No. Jared's been sighted. Someone should tell Brae-"

"If you fucking say her name I will kick your ass out and run you over." Brandon shut up for about 2.5 seconds.

"But aren't you scared? He could come after us!"

"Why would he bother? It's Braelyn he's so enchanted with. He killed Sam because she dared to stand in the way. Let him grab the bitch, I don't care." And she didn't. Braelyn deserved every bad thing that ever happened to her. Sam had been her charge. She was the reason Sam was dead. "I'm not saying I care, she practically killed Sam, but Jared could come back for me, or even you. He hates us." Kathy and Brandon shared a common selfish trait. It was the only thing keeping them together. That, and the sex. "If he does, we can handle it." Kathy promised. Brandon noticed the slash marks. Her pain excited him. "I seem to be developing a problem." Kathy looked over to see the outline of his manhood in his pants. Kathy in her rage, could not deny him. "I hate you." She snarled and pulled into an ally.

**. . .**

The day was nothing but frightened mutters of Jared's sighting. Two armed guards sat at every entrance. Braelyn James, failed to make an appearence. Misty Marie did not. Misty Nicole Marie, a friend of loyalty, answered questions with a guarded gaze, glaring at those who whispered harsh rumors about the late Sam Yeskis.

"Maybe he's come back to finish the job." One boy suggested. Misty had to be dragged away and the boy didn't finish his lunch. Kathy saw Sam in Misty, saw Sam's careful knowledge and strength. Kathy felt no hatred for Misty, knowing the girl had no problem with Kathy. Still, Misty's protective streak was a mile long and verbally abusing Braelyn was a difficult endeavor. The assembly was called an hour before school let out. Misty, Brandon and Kathy all sat together in the middle of everyone, trying not to be seen. Of course everyone stared.

"Braelyn was a no show." Brandon said.

"She's fine. Or alive. Probably not fine." Misty said.

The assembly began with Sam's death story, and for an hour they listened to a lecture on personal safety, how to stay in groups, not to go out at night alone blah blah blah. They went so far as to bring in a self defense specialist to demonstrate protective procedures. All because of one boy. It was announced that a city wide search for Jared would start tonight, and the Several Neighborhood Watch Groups would take shifts through the nights until Jared was apprehended. Kathy snorted, "They won't catch hi. We all know he's been here the whole time. He was seen because he wanted them to see him." Misty shrugged.

"He can't be that good." Brandon whispered fearfully.

"I bet he's gonna make a move soon." Kathy said.

"There's cops all over the place. Why would he risk getting caught?" Brandon questioned.

"Maybe because he knows he deserves it?" Misty said, eyes not in the present time. Kathy felt a prick of shame, for a moment she had forgotten about Sam. They all wanted revenge, and Kathy personally hoped Braelyn would be taken before someone kills Jared.

"I don't think that's why he's here. Someone should check on Braelyn." Brandon said. Misty stood up.

"I volunteer." She said and walked down the bleachers and out of the gym. Misty's quiet rage made Kathy admire her more.

Misty

Misty felt depleted, like a balloon leaking too much air. The news about Jared made her head spin. Immediately Sam's death was fresh on her skin, the anger and the sorrow making her dizzy. She worried about Braelyn's safety and made sure someone was watching Cynthia's house in the morning before school. Braelyn sent a text.

'_I'm fine, I'll check in every hour.'_

Misty was grateful, but it didn't stop her from worrying. Jared was known to be devious. Misty knew he could attack anyone, if they were close to Brae. Misty found herself watching her own back as well as everyone else's. She could feel the apprehension in the air. Everyone was tense. They were all waiting for Jared to strike, and the tension kept building, like the calm before a tornado. Misty felt it was too silent, for the entire day, no one joked around or shouted. Fear was rampant, even amongst the adults. Finally Misty couldn't handle the feel of it on her skin. She left the assembly and the school and went to see Braelyn.

"If I get one more concerned phone call, I'm going to scream. They even sent over an officer to check on me! He's actually still there." Braelyn dropped the curtain. Sam's mom looked at her sadly.

"I'm here cause I can't stand everyone's silent stares. You'd think Jared's going to bomb the place or something." Woops. Sam's mom flinched and Braelyn went still. "Shit, sorry guys."

"It's alright dear." Sam's mom tried for a smile but didn't get very far. Braelyn closed her eyes for a moment and waved Misty's comment away. Their fear was different, controlled. Misty sighed and sat on the window seat. All the curtains were drawn and the television was on along with the radio. The silence couldn't bother them.

"He won't come after us. There's too much commotion." Braelyn said. Cynthia shifted.

"He left us a letter last night." Braelyn walked over and squeezed her hand, taking the envelope from the arm of the couch. Her movements were stiff and calculated. She gave Misty the letter and sat down beside Sam's mom.

"He probably won't come after us." She said.

_ Dearest Braelyn James,_

_ I am unsure of how to begin. The anniversary of my first murder will be in 3 weeks. I killed her. She was kind to me, tried to understand my un-tameable anger, and I killed her. I will never be able to rectify what I have done. I owe you a life. I still love you, although you cannot possibly love me._

_I'm sorry for what I have taken._

_ -Jared Rinaldi_

Misty's initial response is anger.

"He's sorry? Sorry?! Are you fucking kidding me?" She didn't know how to control the cacophony of emotion rolling through her bloodstream. Braelyn just stood up and walked out of the room. Silence can be in the soul, and Misty wanted to rip the paper apart.

"How do you forgive someone for taking a life?" Cynthia's voice sounded small and frightened, like a small rabbit. Misty didn't think the answer was in the carpet. Her hands curled around the paper in absolute rage.

"I don't think you're supposed to forgive them. Even if they're sorry. It's unforgivable."

"Sam would forgive him." Misty shut her eyes tight against the pain, throat constricting with tears.

"Yeah, she would."That was the worst part. Misty couldn't hate him for what he had done, because Sam would bare no anger for it. Misty tried for anger, wanted the anger back, but only felt sorrow. Anger was easier to deal with.

"Do you think there's a heaven?" Misty questioned, passing the bottle to Braelyn. They were sitting on Sam's bed, sharing a water bottle filled with a drink called Apple Pie.

"I think we want there to be a heaven. Mostly because we fear death." Brae took a small sip, eyes on Sam's many pictures she had taken herself. Some were very good, pictures taken of birds in the Autumn air, fallen leaves brightly orange and red. Misty felt warm and bright in this basement. The cheerfulness wasn't grating, it was comforting, smiling faces unposed, mixed up with snapshots of everyday life.

"I want there to be a heaven." Misty said.

"Why?" Braelyn was curious, not condescending.

"So that Sam is safe somewhere. I hope she's not scared or alone. I hope she's happy."

"She's happy. She has to be." Braelyn said. "She's smiling at us, wherever she is."


	3. We Continue

Chapter Three~We Continue

Braelyn

It wasn't the noise that woke me. I was already awake. The continuous fear I feel at night cannot be chased away, it cam only be increased. When the crash sounded, I was already thinking about Jared. I froze, fear making me go completely stiff. If I shut my eyes, I can't see him come in. I kept them open, heart racing, wishing I wasn't alone. Upstairs something creaked. My eyes shot to the ceiling. Now I had to make a decision, I could sit down here and cower while Cynthia, who was frail and sick, investigated the noise. Or I could do it myself. I wanted nothing more to be selfish and scared, but I sat up. I grabbed Sam's knife and went upstairs. Sam's mom was sitting was sitting up, eyes wide with fear.

"Hey, hey, lay back down. I'll go see what it was." I helped her lay down and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. She grabbed my wrist.

"Take your knife." She was shivering. I waved my hand, the knife there in my grasp.

"Way ahead of you. I'll be fine." Another crash sounded and we both gasped. I gently pushed Cynthia back down to the couch. "I'll be right back." I promised, and before I could chicken out, I went to the door and out the porch.

Night time shouldn't be so silent, I thought. I realized how absolutely dark it was and went back inside to get a flashlight.

"I think it came from the alley. Maybe we should call someone?" Cynthia said. I tried for a smile past my racing heart.

"We're fine. It's probably just a raccoon. I'll be right back." I went outside and before I could lose my nerve, I stepped off the porch onto the wet grass. The alley was in the back. The back was a long scary walk through the dark.

"Be still my beating heart." I whispered and started forward. "See this isn't so bad. It's just dark...and damp...and there might be a murderous raving lunatic about to kill me..." I bit my cheek to stop my nervous babbling and kept going. A crash sounded and I shrieked, jumping about a foot in the air, flashlight arcing. I took a deep breath and steadied myself, finally stepping out in the alley. I shone my flashlight down the gravel road. My heart racing faster and faster.

_Mreow_

I whirled around, my flashlight landing on a small tabby cat perched on the garbage bins. I let out a long breath.

"Hey little fella." I said, scratching the cat behind the ears. He purred, rubbing his face into my fingers, pressing against me. I picked him up, "Come on little fella." I carried him out of the alley and started back to the porch. Suddenly the brushes rustled. I gasped and dropped my flashlight, the precious lamp fading into darkness. I stood absolutely still, my heart pounding in my ears. My eyesight adjusted and I saw something white stuck in the bushes. My fingers curled around soft paper: an envelope. Terror crashed into me.

"Jared." I whispered, my voice to high. Plaese don't respond please do-

"I'm sorry." I bolted, running away so fast and hard I thought my heart would explode. I pounded up the porch stairs and burst into the house, slamming the door, locking it, then sliding to the floor, heart hammering in my chest.

"Braelyn?" Sam's mom questioned. The cat in my arms meowed again. Cynthia took the envelope from my fingers.

"He's back. He's back Cynthia." I whispered.

The next day, I didn't even bother going to school. I made sure to text Misty every hour, but other than that I stayed downstairs. I named the tabby cat Irving for no particular reason. I received six phone calls from concerned friends. The seventh was my mother making sure I was alive. A police officer came to check out the house and scold me for not going to school. I couldn't find the ambition to care about any of it. Fear does terrible things to a person's mind, and the fear I grappled with day after day was driving me insane. I spent the day with Cynthia, curtains drawn, television and radio evaporating silence that could intrude. Jared's letter grated against my skull every time I glanced at it. My rage for him almost rose over my terror. Almost. I didn't read it, I couldn't bring myself to open the envelope. Misty showed up just as I was about to open it. I was thankful for the interruption. I looked out the window as she walked in.

"If I get one more concerned phone call, I'm going to scream. They even sent an officer to check on me. He's actually still there." I dropped the curtain on the police cruiser and met Misty's gaze.

"I'm here because I can't stand everyone's silent stares. You'd going to bomb the place or something." I froze at the name and Misty immediately registered my distaste. "Shit sorry guys." I closed my eyes and waved it away. There was no need for her to suffer too.

"He won't come after us. There's too much commotion." I forced the words out, not wanting to tell misty about my encounter.

"He left us a letter last night." Cynthia said fearfully. I saw her fear and went to her, taking her hand in mine. whether it was for my comfort or hers, I'm not sure. I gave Misty the letter I couldn't read and sat down on the couch.

"He probably won't come after us." I said. Misty opened the envelope and began to read. At first there was sorrow and shock, confusion and them came the rage. If there was one thing, Misty and I had in common, it was our anger.

"He's sorry? Sorry?! Are you fucking kidding me?" I closed my eyes against all of it and walked from the room. The sorrow enveloped me and I found myself on Sam's bed, balling, the sobs shaking my body until I couldn't breathe. The tears scalding on my cheeks, panic seeping into my chest, building and building, my hands in my hair, eyes wide, searching for the anger instead of this fear, this awful all consuming fear. Each breath was a gasp, my teeth clenched, hands in fists in my hair, sitting on the edge of the bed, wave after wave of panic, so much panic. I was alone. So very alone. My gorge rose, my stomach heaving and I raced to the bathroom, throwing up everything I had.

Misty appeared in the doorway, seeing the bottle of alcohol in my hands, she took it from me and took a long drink.

"Have you even read that letter?" I shook my head and she sat down. "Well don't. When did you guys get a cat?" Irving came into the room and onto the bed, purring as I scratched him behind the ears.

"Last night. I found him in the garbage. His name's Irving." She snorted a laugh and took another sip.

"Do you think there's heaven?" Misty asked. Passing me the bottle. I bottle in my hands.

"I think we want there to be a heaven... Mostly because we fear death." I took a drink to emphasize my words. I wanted there to be a heaven more than any of us.

"I want there to be a heaven." Misty whispered.

"Why?"

"So that Sam is safe somewhere. I hope she's not scared or alone. I hope she's happy." I took a deep breath, and in my head Sam smiled.

"She's happy. She has to be... She's smiling at us wherever she is."


End file.
